Page 19 of Memory of a Highlander (Arch Through Time #27)

N iall’s knuckles hurt . He could still feel the impact of his fist against the bones of MacAllister’s face, hear the crack as they made contact, feel the flush of satisfaction and the release of pent-up rage.

The rage that had roared to life as he’d seen MacAllister lay his hands on Charlotte had not abated. It was muted now, the banked embers of a fire rather than a roaring blaze, but it was still there, ready to burst into life if anyone— anyone —should threaten her.

He forced himself to concentrate on guiding the horse as they thundered away from MacAllister’s estate. Beneath him, the horse moved at a smooth gallop but he put one arm around Charlotte’s waist to steady her anyway. Not because she looked like she needed steadying but because he wanted to touch her. Needed to touch her. Needed to reassure himself that she was whole and unharmed.

If anything had happened to her...

Niall tightened his grip as the wind rushed past them, his heart still hammering from the fight, from the fear of losing her, from the raw fury still simmering in his blood. He focused on the steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves, the way Charlotte fit so perfectly against him, the rise and fall of her breath as she clung to him. She was all right. She was unharmed. She was all right. She was unharmed. It was a prayer he kept telling himself over and over.

They rode hard—but not back towards the estate. Too many questions would face them when they returned there and Niall needed to think. So instead, he headed to the one place that might provide the solace they both needed.

Up ahead, the looming shape of a small, tear-shaped loch came into view, its dark, glassy surface reflecting the lowering sunlight. The place was exactly as he remembered it—a quiet, hidden sanctuary where the trees stood sentinel around the water’s edge, shielding it from prying eyes. It sat right on the edge of his estate and was rarely visited. Good. Right now, that was exactly what he needed.

He slowed the horse, guiding it carefully down the gentle slope to the loch’s edge, where the ground was soft but firm enough to hold them. When they finally came to a stop, the only sound was the rhythmic rush of the horse’s heavy breaths, matching the rapid beat of his own heart.

Niall dismounted first, his muscles still taut with tension. He turned to help Charlotte down, his hands settling at her waist. When her feet touched the ground, he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

“Are ye hurt?” he asked roughly.

Charlotte shook her head, her face flushed. “No,” she said, breathless. “But I—” Her words caught, and she closed her eyes, sucking in a shaky breath.

Niall cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Dinna lie to me, lass.” His thumb brushed along her wrist, and his gut twisted at the sight of the faint red mark there—MacAllister’s doing. The fire in him flared hot again.

“I’m not lying,” she said, quieter this time. “I just—I need a second to catch up with what just happened.”

He understood that. Lord, he wasn’t sure he’d caught up with it himself. He clenched his jaw, his hands shifting to her shoulders. “I should’ve killed him.”

Charlotte barked a short, breathless laugh. “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have helped.”

“It would’ve helped me ,” Niall muttered darkly.

She didn’t reply. Instead, she reached up and laid her palm flat against his chest. Right over his pounding heart. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver through him.

“Niall,” she said, her voice softer now. “You came for me.”

“As if there was ever another choice.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This is all my fault. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

His eyes searched hers. “Then why were ye there, Charlotte? After ye promised me ye would stay away? Do ye have any idea of what might have happened if I hadnae arrived in time?”

“I...I...didn’t think he’d be there. He was supposed to be in Edinburgh. And after all he’s done—Albie, your brother, those pamphlets, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

“And I canna stand by while ye put yourself in danger.” He sounded angrier than he meant to, but damn it, she didn’t understand what it had done to him—to see her in that bastard’s grip, to hear MacAllister call for the sheriff as if her life was nothing. He took another breath, steadying himself. “Ye’re staying at my side from now on, Charlotte.”

She blinked, some of the defiance returning to her gaze. “Oh, am I?”

“Aye,” he said, unyielding. “Because if ye ever get into trouble like that again, I dinna know what I would do.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Charlotte said, her voice a little shaky. “Will he really call the sheriff? He said he would see me hanged.”

Niall placed his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me. Look at me! That isnae going to happen, do ye hear? Anyone tries to get near ye they will have to come through me first. I will die before I let anyone hurt ye. Understand?”

She nodded, eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I should have listened to you.”

Niall took a slow breath, forcing himself to ease the tension in his shoulders, in his fists that still ached from striking MacAllister. His anger was a fire banked low, but it wasn’t directed at her. It had never been.

“I’m not angry with ye, Charlotte,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’m angry at him . For putting his hands on ye. For thinking he had the right. For all the foul things he’s done.” His hand slid from her shoulder to cradle the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the soft skin there. “And I’m angry at myself—because I lost control back there. Because I’ve never been so bloody terrified in my life.”

Charlotte’s breath hitched. “Niall...”

He swallowed hard. “When I saw him holding ye like that, when I thought for even a second that I might not get to ye in time—I canna even explain what that did to me.” His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough that she couldn’t look away. “I’ve been in fights. I’ve faced men twice my size with steel in their hands and murder in their eyes. And I swear to ye, nothing— nothing —has ever scared me the way that did.”

She was staring at him now, her eyes wide, her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

So he did.

“I love ye, Charlotte.” The words came rough, raw, torn straight from his chest. “God help me, I do.”

She made a small sound—half a gasp, half a laugh—as if she hadn’t expected him to say it. As if she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

His fingers tightened in her hair. “I love ye,” he said again, fiercer this time. “And if ye tell me that I should walk away, that ye dinna feel the same, then I will.” He forced out the words, even though the very thought of leaving her made his heart clench. “But if ye feel even a fraction of what I do—”

She put a finger against his lips to stop him. “I do,” she whispered. “I do. I love you too.”

***

C HARLIE’S HEART POUNDED so hard she swore Niall must hear it. She could still see the raw emotion in his eyes, could still hear the rough edge in his voice as he said the words that had knocked the breath right out of her.

I love ye, Charlotte.

She hadn’t expected him to say it. She hadn’t dared to hope.

But the truth of it was written in every tense line of his body, in the way his fingers trembled slightly where they held her. In the way he had stormed into MacAllister’s home, fists flying, fury burning in his gaze, because she had been in danger.

She had never felt so terrified as when MacAllister had grabbed her. And she’d never felt so safe as when Niall had come for her.

“I do,” she whispered again, her breath mingling with his, her fingers curling into the fabric of his plaid as if to anchor herself to him. “I love you too.”

When had she fallen for him? She couldn’t pinpoint it. It had crept up on her, despite her best efforts to stop it.

Something changed in his expression as she said those words—something broke. The tension in him snapped like a bowstring, and then he was moving, pulling her against him, his arms wrapping tight around her as his lips crashed into hers.

Charlie gasped into the kiss, a sound that turned into a soft, desperate sigh as she melted into him. She had kissed him before, but it was nothing like this.

This was heat and hunger and aching relief all wrapped up into one. This was desperate fear followed by desperate joy, and the crazy, all-consuming emotions that brought. Her need for him consumed her. She didn’t think she’d wanted anything in her life as much as she wanted him right now.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight, her body pressing into his as if she could mold herself to him completely. His hands roamed over her back, up her arms, down her waist, as though he needed to convince himself that she was really here, really safe.

He tore his mouth from hers, his breath ragged. He rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling in time with her own unsteady breaths. His hands framed her face, his thumbs sweeping over her cheeks with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Tell me again, lass.”

Charlie swallowed hard, her throat tight. She had spent so long guarding her heart, so long keeping herself walled off from feelings that ran too deep, from emotions that could shatter her if she let them take root. But with Niall, there was no hiding. No pretending.

She reached up, her fingers brushing over his jaw, tracing the strong lines of his face as she met his gaze, stormy and full of something raw and unguarded.

“I love you,” she said, steady this time. Certain.

A shuddering breath left him, and then he kissed her again, softer, lingering. When he finally pulled away, his fingers tangled in her hair.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted. “Never thought I’d find someone who—” He shook his head, exhaling a rough laugh. “Who could drive me mad and make me whole all at once.”

Charlie went up on tiptoes and kissed him again. “Drive you mad, do I? I’ll show you just how mad I can drive you.”

She felt brazen, powerful, full of confidence and fire. Niall loved her. This gorgeous, brave, extraordinary man loved her. She felt like she could do anything.

“Is that a promise?” Niall said, his voice low and husky.

“It’s a promise.”

Charlie grabbed his plaid in her fists and yanked him against her, then took them both down to the soft grass that hugged the loch shore. Niall straddled her, hands braced either side of her head as he kissed down her neck, along her collarbone, each touch of his lips tracing a line of fire across her skin.

Charlie moaned, arching into him. With desperate movements, she began tugging at the sash of his plaid and then pulling at the linen shirt underneath. Niall raised his arms, allowing her to pull it over his head and leaving his muscled chest bare.

Charlie swallowed. He was glorious. Not perfect. Not the smooth, unblemished skin of a spoiled aristocrat, but the hard planes and scars of a man who’d fought for everything he had. Charlie ran her hands over his chest and traced the scars on his skin, before sitting up and pressing her lips to each one in turn. Niall groaned, his eyes sliding closed.

“Dear God, lass,” he whispered. “What are ye trying to do to me?”

“Drive you mad, remember?” she replied with a wicked smile.

“Carry on like that and ye might just succeed.”

His fingers began undoing the laces of her dress. With practiced ease, he made quick work of her bodice, and when he pulled the fabric away from her shoulders and down to her waist, his breath hitched.

“God above,” he murmured, his rough hands skimming over her bare skin, making her shiver. “Ye are perfect.”

She arched into his touch, craving more, and Niall obliged, his mouth following the path of his hands. He kissed down the column of her throat, over her collarbone, down to the soft swell of her breast. Charlie gasped as his lips closed around her nipple, heat spearing through her.

Her fingers curled into his hair, holding him to her as his lips laid soft kisses along her breasts, her sides, her stomach, mapping every inch of her. Electricity danced across her skin and a deep, hot ache began to burn between her thighs.

Oh, he was good. She had always known he would be. But this? This was incredible.

His hand moved down her body, under the hem of her dress and then back up the inside of her thigh, the hard pad of his thumb raising goosebumps in its wake. Charlie gasped, back arching as his fingers slid beneath her undergarments and into the hot ache between her thighs. He found her nub and began to gently stroke, sending spears of molten lava up through her core. A moan escaped her lips and she dug her nails into his shoulder, never wanting him to stop.

Sensing her need, Niall’s hand moved lower, a finger slipping inside her. Charlie’s hips bucked and she ground against his hand as he began to work her, slowly, oh so slowly at first, but with increasing tempo. She writhed under his hand as he slipped a second finger inside her, joining the first.

Oh God. This was too much. Too much. What was he doing to her?

“What do ye want, my love?” Niall whispered by her ear, his breath hot against her neck. “Tell me what ye want.”

“You,” she gasped out. “I want you. Right now. I need you inside me, Niall.”

Niall’s eyes slid closed as a low growl escaped him, almost animal-like in its ferocity.

He yanked her dress away, then kicked off his britches, shedding the last barriers between them until there was nothing left but skin. Niall rolled atop her and settled between her thighs, his body heavy and warm over hers. God this felt so good. So...so...right. How could she ever have thought she could resist him? She couldn’t. She never stood a chance.

Charlie wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him in. Their eyes met, and Niall’s gaze burned with something raw and primal that sparked an answering need deep inside her.

Then with a slow, deliberate thrust of his hips, he was inside her, a deep, stretching heat that made her gasp. Niall groaned, his forehead pressing against hers as he found his rhythm, driving into her slow and deep.

Charlie clung to him, meeting each thrust with desperate hunger, losing herself in him, in this moment, in the way he made her feel. She wrapped one leg around his hips, inviting him deeper, her fingertips dancing across the muscles of his back as they bunched and relaxed above her.

Pleasure coiled tight inside her, winding higher and higher. It began in the spot where their bodies met but spiraled outwards until it seemed to fill every inch of her, her skin shivering, her nerves tingling. Until finally, finally, it shattered, sending her tumbling over the edge. She arched beneath him, crying his name to the sky and the world shattered into pieces.

Niall followed with a shuddering groan, his grip on her tightening as he poured himself into her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, their bodies tangled, their breaths mingling.

Then Niall lifted his weight, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Ye are mine, Charlotte,” he murmured, his voice possessive.

Charlie reached up and wiped a damp curl of hair from his forehead. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Niall rolled onto his back and she curled against him, her head resting over the steady beat of his heart. Charlie lay still, her body still thrumming in the aftermath of what they had just shared. The loch stretched out before them, its surface smooth and untouched, save for the ripples where the wind skimmed across the water. Niall lay beneath her, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, his sandy hair tousled from her hands.

“This place is beautiful,” she murmured. “Where are we?”

“A place I used to come to when I was a lad,” Niall said, his voice low and content. “When things at home grew too loud, too much, I’d slip away to this loch. No one ever thought to look for me here. It was mine—my escape.”

Charlie turned to look up at him. “And now?”

His gaze softened as he reached out, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. “Now I wish we could stay here forever.”

“Me too.” She leaned into his touch, unwilling to let the moment slip away. She wanted to stay here forever too, wrapped in the warmth of him, in the peace of this place. But reality tugged at the edges of her thoughts, pulling her back to the world waiting beyond the loch. “We should probably go,” she whispered, though she made no move to rise.

“Aye,” Niall agreed, but neither of them moved for another long moment. He dragged his fingers slowly down her arm before pulling away, reaching for his clothes.

Charlie sighed as she did the same, stealing glances at him as he dressed. He loved her. Dear God, Niall Campbell loved her. When he turned to help her onto the horse, she let her hands linger on his, savoring the feel of him.

They rode back slowly, Charlie leaning back against him in the saddle, Niall with one arm clamped tightly around her waist. She had no desire to rush, no desire to face the burdens that waited for them back at the estate.

But all too soon, Glennoch came into view.

They clattered into the courtyard and Niall pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted. She didn’t like it when he released her to do so. She didn’t like being away from him for one second. Reaching up with both hands, he lifted her down as easily as if she weighed no more than a doll and Charlie was more than happy to let him. Niall set her on her feet but didn’t release her. His hands tightened on her waist and Charlie found herself staring up at him.

God, those eyes. She could lose herself in those eyes. Heat spiraled through her and she found herself stepping closer, not caring who was watching. They all thought she was Niall’s mistress anyway.

Niall’s hand brushed down her side, across the skirt of her dress and she heard the sudden crackle of paper.

She froze. The letters! How had she forgotten?

Stepping back, she fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the crumpled package.

“I forgot,” she murmured. “With everything that’s happened, I forgot!”

“What’s that?” Niall asked.

She held the bundle towards him. “Letters. Coded ones. I found them in MacAllister’s desk. There was a whole bundle so I stole some.”

Niall’s expression darkened as he took them from her. The parchment was slightly crumpled from being pressed against her body for so long, but the inked symbols were still clear in the twilight. His jaw clenched as he scanned the writing.

“Aye, these are coded all right,” he said quietly.

“Can you break it?”

“I can try. But I’ll need Joseph.”

Together, they strode through the halls and up to Niall’s study, Niall shouting for someone to send Joseph up to him as soon as the older man could be found. The room was dimly lit and Niall quickly lit a candle, casting long shadows across the heavy wooden desk.

Niall dropped the letters onto the desk and took one of the seats. Charlie’s heart was beating a little more rapidly now and not from Niall’s proximity this time. How could she have forgotten the letters she’d stolen from MacAllister? That was the reason she’d gone to his manor house in the first place! Would they contain anything they could use against him?

Knowing my luck, they’ll be letters from his mother checking he’s eating enough, she thought grimly. But if they weren’t important, then why were they in code?

There was a knock on the door and Joseph pushed it open, stepping into the room. A look of relief passed across his face when he saw the two of them. “Where have ye been? We were getting worried.”

Niall ignored the question, unfolding the letters on the desk. “Joseph, we need to break this code.”

Joseph leaned over the desk, his sharp eyes scanning the papers. “What are they?”

Niall glanced at Charlie before turning his attention to the older man. “Letters belonging to Boyd MacAllister.”

Joseph sucked in a breath. “I willnae even ask how ye got them.”

“Good. It’s best if ye dinna know. But they are in code and we need to know what they say.”

Charlie perched on the edge of the desk, watching as the two men bent over the letters, faces etched with concentration. This had to work. If it didn’t, they were all in serious trouble.

***

N IALL TRIED TO FOCUS on the letters spread before him, his fingers tracing over the strange, interwoven symbols and slanted script. He had deciphered dozens of coded messages in his time, knew the patterns, the tricks, the ways men tried to conceal their secrets in ink. But tonight, his thoughts were tangled in something far more distracting than ciphers.

Charlotte.

All he seemed to be able to think about was the way she had looked beneath him, her hair splayed across the grass, her lips parted, her eyes dark with something that had nearly undone him. The way she had whispered his name as though it belonged to her.

The way she had told him she loved him.

He had never expected to hear those words from her lips, had never let himself hope. But she had said them. And he had felt them, in every touch, every kiss, every sigh that had passed between them. And now she was here, perched on the edge of the desk, watching them work with her lip caught between her teeth, making it impossible to think straight.

Bloody hell.

Joseph, bent over the papers, muttered something about frequency analysis, but Niall barely heard him. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to drag his gaze back to the coded text. He had to concentrate.

MacAllister was coming for them—he was sure of it. The bastard wouldn’t let this go, not after Niall had put him on his arse and stolen away with Charlotte. He would use the law if it suited him, or he would use a blade if it didn’t. Either way, they were in danger.

Which meant these letters mattered more than ever.

Joseph exhaled sharply. “This part here—these numbers, they repeat in a pattern.”

Niall focused. “A substitution cipher, then. But mixed with something else.”

Joseph nodded. “Aye. Could be a variation on a Latin shift.”

Niall reached for the cipher keys his employers had provided him over the years and began cross-referencing. Slowly, words began to emerge from the gibberish—names, places, and a phrase that made his stomach tighten.

Weapons shipment.

He exchanged a look with Joseph, whose face had gone grim.

Niall pressed his hands flat against the desk, forcing himself to breathe, forcing himself to keep his thoughts from spiraling. His momentary distraction—the memory of Charlotte, the feel of her, the taste of her—was gone, burned away by the ice-cold realization of what they were uncovering.

Joseph worked beside him, fingers deftly sorting through cipher keys and substitution charts, his usually impassive face set with grim determination. The scratching of a quill against parchment was the only sound in the study.

Charlotte, still perched nearby, watched them both with rapt attention. He could feel her gaze on him, burning into his skin, but he didn’t dare look at her now. If he did, if he let himself sink into the warmth in her eyes, he would lose the fragile focus he had managed to reclaim.

Another letter, another set of numbers, another layer of the cipher peeled away. Slowly, piece by piece, the coded words gave up their secrets.

Shipment confirmed. Landing site secured.

Awaiting final word from Paris.

The king’s forces will not suspect.

Niall clenched his jaw, barely resisting the urge to curse aloud. His fingers tightened around the edges of the parchment. He had suspected rebellion, but this was worse than anything he’d imagined.

This was war.

“The rumors were right. They mean to bring the French here,” Joseph muttered, his voice low and taut. “To land troops on Scottish soil and put a Stewart claimant on the throne.”

Niall exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. The weight of what they had just uncovered settled heavily in his chest.

“This is it,” he whispered. “This is treason, right here. We’ve got him.”

“Wait,” Joseph said suddenly, his voice sharp with urgency. “There’s more.”

Niall looked up as Joseph slid another letter toward him, the parchment slightly crumpled from the way Joseph had gripped it. Niall snatched it up, scanning the contents quickly, his eyes narrowing.

Then he saw it.

His own name. Campbell.

His pulse slammed against his ribs, and for a brief, wild moment, he thought MacAllister had somehow known about him, about his infiltration of the rebellion, of his covert spying for the crown. But as his eyes traced the words again, realization struck him: the letter wasn’t talking about him.

It was talking about Bryce. His older brother.

Niall’s fingers tightened on the parchment as he read Joseph’s translation.

The funds have been secured. Bryce Campbell believes it to be an investment in the wool trade. He will take the blame should anything go wrong, and his lands will be forfeit. With his downfall, all Campbell territory will be divided among the rightful loyalists.

Niall felt as if the floor had shifted beneath him. His brother had been unknowingly funding MacAllister’s treason. Bryce, who had always believed in law and order, was being set up to take the fall.

“God’s blood,” Niall muttered. He looked up, meeting Joseph’s grim gaze before turning to Charlotte, whose face had gone pale. “He’s going to ruin my brother. He’s going to ruin us all.”

Joseph exhaled through his nose, his expression tight. “Aye. And if Bryce’s involvement becomes known, he’ll be accused of treason. There’ll be no saving him.”

Niall’s grip on the parchment nearly tore it in two. Fury rose in him, white-hot and blinding. This wasn’t just politics anymore. This wasn’t just war. This was personal .

Charlotte leaned forward, her voice urgent. “We have to stop him.”

Niall nodded, his jaw clenched. Bryce wasn’t involved in the rebellion. He hadn’t been working with MacAllister. Instead, he’d been an unwitting partner in MacAllister’s schemes. An odd sense of relief filled him at that. He and his brother had been estranged for a long time but he’d always harbored the hope that one day they would be reconciled. That hope would have died had it turned out Bryce was a rebel. But now? There was still hope. As long as they got to Bryce in time.

“We have to warn Bryce. Now.”

Niall pushed back from the table, rolling up the incriminating letters and securing them inside his plaid.

Joseph stood as well, his expression grim but steady. “I’ll turn out the guard,” he said, already striding for the door. “I’ll have every man armed and ready. If MacAllister gets wind that we’ve discovered his plans, there’s a chance he’ll strike tonight.”

Niall nodded sharply. “Aye. Do it.”

Charlotte was already moving towards the door, her gaze determined as she looked at him. “Don’t even try telling me to stay behind. I’m coming with you.”

Niall’s stomach twisted at the thought of taking her with him, but there was no time to argue, and truth be told, he didn’t want to leave her behind. Not when MacAllister might be coming for them. Not when the thought of her out of his sight terrified him.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured as they hurried through the house and stepped out into the courtyard. The air was thick with the coming night, the sky bruising into darkness.

The grooms ran to ready his horse, sensing the urgency in Niall’s stance, the tightness of his voice as he issued commands. He swung up into the saddle, gripping the reins tightly, then reached a hand down to help Charlotte up.

She settled against him without hesitation, her hands gripping the saddle. He felt the warmth of her, solid and real, and it steadied him.

With a final glance toward Joseph, who stood watching with a grim expression, Niall gave a short nod.

“Hold Glennoch,” he ordered. “No one in or out unless they’re known.”

Joseph nodded. “Godspeed.”

Niall dug his heels into the horse’s sides, and they surged forward, hooves striking hard against the packed earth as they galloped into the gathering dark.